


You Were X'ing the Y the Other Day...

by Dogtagsandsmut



Series: Love Me Now [2]
Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Marriage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogtagsandsmut/pseuds/Dogtagsandsmut
Summary: Slice of Life Ficlets from my "(I dunno) Who's Gonna Kiss You When I'm Gone" fanfic. Based upon enbymunro's fics. Will mostly feature Wayne/Daryl but will include ficlets from other major characters.





	1. Wayne/Darry: Super Soft Ring-a-ding

**Author's Note:**

> I'd recommend reading ((I dunno) Who's Gonna Kiss You When I'm Gone) prior to this, otherwise many of these fics are going to have little to no context for you.

Katy was always smart—her parents knew it, her teachers knew it, Wayne knew it, and most important of all, she knew it. But even with all that, sometimes even people that knew her forgot her intelligence in favor of her butt and her dimples and the curve of her chest, and to that she’d say, _good. Let them underestimate. Always play your cards close to your chest._

So, being the smart gal she was, she’d figured out long ago where Daryl and Wayne’s path would end up decades before it’d actually happened. She’d known from the very first time she’d watched her brother finish a fight in year 5, then bucked up to every lookie-loo in his grade, and the only one that hadn’t flinched away from him was Darry.

 

* * *

 

 

_two decades later_

A few weeks after the most super soft low-key civil ceremony ever had this side of Letterkenny, Darry pokes his head into the barn where Wayne’s shoveling shit and scrubbing the floorboards. He grins, slow as molasses, and Wayne waits for him to speak for near a whole minute before he gets impatient and turns back to his work.

“Pitter patter, Darry.”

“Head’s up!”

It’s only Wayne’s fighting reflexes that save the airborne, tumbling flash of gold from slipping through his fingers and falling through the cracks of the barn floor, but Wayne manages to catch it and pinch it between his thumb and forefinger nevertheless. He looks up from what is clearly a man's wedding ring to Darry’s face, slowly, and cocks an eyebrow.

“What the actual fuck is this shit, Dar?”

Darry swaggers towards him, only slightly ruining the picture by stumbling over a loose floor board. “Should'a fixed that.”

“Really should'a fixed that.”

“Should’a fixed that years ago. Anyway, just put it on, Wayne. Please?” Daryl stops in front of him, a glimmer of hope on his face.

Wayne rolls his eyes, but complies anyway. To his utter surprise, it fits perfectly; not too snug and not too lose. Darry grins, bounding the last step up to Wayne and holding his hand out, palm up, a smaller ring nestled there in his lifeline. “Do me, now, Wayne, do me.”

“I already do,” Wayne mutters, but he takes the ring anyways and slides it onto Darry’s left hand. He feels his face soften at the sight of it there on Darry’s finger, then mentally gives his balls a tug. “How’d you get these anyway?”

Darry shrugs. “Mom had a necklace.”

Wayne’s expression melts even more, and he pulls Daryl into a slow, long, gentle kiss, gripping his face with his newly beringed hand. He pulls away finally, butting his forehead against Darry’s for a moment before backing up and lifting his hand, inspecting the jewelry in a beam of light cast from a gap in the wall. _So much for the toughest guy in Letterkenny,_ he thinks. _I’m softer than cow shit for this kid._

“Well I guess that’ll do. One question for ya now, though. How’d you get the size right, Darry?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Cut the ring finger off your best pair of work gloves, brought it in for measure,” Darry replies, grinning still.

Wayne nod for a bit until the sentence registers.

“Wait, _YOU DID WHAT?”_


	2. Horse Whores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought Wayne was also the smooth talking hick you see today?

“Tell us the story of Katy trying to ride a horse for the first time,” Daryl requests as everyone sits around the produce stand one cool afternoon.

Squirrely Dan snorts. “’Smore of Wayne’s story t’be honest. Weren't even there.”

“And one that doesn’t end well for me, t’be honest, so what’s the point?” Wayne gripes, squinting and cracking open another beer. “Aw, go ahead.”

“Well it all started with the barn cats…”

 

* * *

 

 

The barn cats were in heat that month and the caterwauling was enough to drive the lot of them crazy. Wayne was sitting at the dining table, drinking from a Gus n Bru and staring at nothing, and upstairs Katy was flipping her pillow over to the cool side and wrapping it around her head for the thousandth time.

Darry, in his bedroom, slept dead to the world.

Katy gave up, finally bringing herself down from her room and plopping down at the kitchen table across from her brother. “Big shoots,” she greeted, kicking pagama clad legs back and forth.

Without a word, Wayne slid her a shot, and they tapped twice and down the hatch.

They sat in silence for a minute more before Wayne abruptly jerked upright. “I’m getting the .22,” he ground out.

“Aww c’mon Wayne, they’ll be done in a fortnight, leave ‘em be.” She took a long swig straight from the bottle, giving up on getting to bed sober and hellbent on getting ripped instead.

Wayne snatched the bottle from her and took his own drag before muttering, “yeah and a whole new brood to deal with two months from now.”

“Yeah, but kittens!”

“Mouths.”

“Mouths that _purr_. Mouths that _eat mice_ , just let it go.”

Wayne sat back down.

A bottle and a half later and sleep not forthcoming, Katy wobbled her way out to the porch to break up the enamored pair of felines before Wayne decided to do it with lead and gun powder, and that was when she saw it. A wild horse.

“A wild horse! Wayne, look, come look, a wild horse!” she called.

Wayne stepped out of the house behind her. He picked her up and moved her to the side so he could squint out at what she was looking at.

It was a wild horse. A brown one. It was out near the field, chewing on some cud. Its coat reflected the moonlight, a little. It was beautiful. And it gave Katy an idea.

“I’m gonna ride it!”

“The hell you are!” Wayne argued. “You’re half drunk and you’ve got no tack! You’ll fall off ‘n break your ass and Darry’ll have to drive you to the clinic because I’m not fit to at the moment.” And he let out an undignified giggle, then looked surprised at himself.

Katy grabbed a porch post, leaning out onto the lawn. “Don’t need a bridle. We’ll just use its mane! C’mon Wayne, let’s go ride it!”

“’Kay,” Wayne said, because at (more than) half drunk, he was out of coherent objections.

He wandered over to the horse—not as wild as they had thought, as it didn’t immediately startle and bolt—with Katy close on his heels. In the light, the horse’s coat was even more majestic. “Okay, c’mere.”

Katy approached, slightly more cautiously now. “Uh Wayne, I’m not sure that—“

“—You said you wanna ride it, I’m gonna give you a boost; now c’mere,” Wayne interrupted.

The horse tilted its head, looking him dead in the eye.

“Wayne, seriously though. You need to bac—“

And with that, the horse sneezed, wheeled around, and kicked Wayne in the chest, twice, rapid like. He flew back, ass over tea kettle, landing splayed out on his back with the wind knocked out of him. He let out a noise that was part whimper, part wheeze as Katy doubled over laughing.

“Get…Darry…” he huffed, as she ran in a crouch to the house, cackling and holding her stomach in mirth.

 

* * *

 

 

“So yeah, turns out the horse weren’t a horse so much as the Millers’ old donkey whats got loose from their property and ran itself away to our wheat fields, and that’s how Wayne had his third set of broken ribs, and the Miller’s son got arrested for an illegal donkey fighting ring,” Squirrely Dan finishes.

Darry claps. Wayne rolls his eyes, arm wrapped protectively over his middle. Katy smiles to herself.

“Allegedly,” Dan adds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: more fluff! Then to follow: PORN!


	3. Chapter 3

**Puce is not a warm grey.**

 

* * *

 

“Puce is not a warm grey,” Wayne butts in.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. McMurry says, typing frantically on the weird Frankenstein meeting notary typewriter.

“You said…hmm. Sorry. Six months ago you claimed that puce is a warm grey. With the floor mats. It’s not.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s red-pink.”

 

* * *

 

 

Darry-red pinks up himself when it’s brought up, come to think, but fact is, this is one of the first Agricultural Meetings he and Darry have dared shown their face in since Jambo come and gone; since they basically declared how it was between them by dancing with each other in front of god and country and more than half the town. Daryl’d adapted quickly: “This is my sweetie, Wayne. Yes, we been friends for years,” but Wayne’s still struggling over the term, or at least, saying it out loud.

Which he kicks his own ass for, over and over again.

He feels like he’s been completely stupid when it comes to Darry—not just stupid _over_ , but stupid _when it comes to_ , and god knows the younger man doesn’t deserve the neither when it comes down to it because when it _comes down to it_ all Darry did was love Wayne and have courage. And now that they’re together, well, the two of them just click, bread and butter, but it’s the whole wide world that interferes with that, or at least, Letterkenny butting its nose in.

Also Wayne does his fair share of butting in too.

 _I love you so goddamn much; I am in love with you,_ ” Wayne thinks, sometimes, but damned if he’ll say it. Bad enough their business is town business; their _business_ business aka _the farm business_ is everyone’s business when _that business_ and it affects the business of everyone who works and lives on this farm besides Darry and him.

His sister. Her lovers.

Squirrley Day. His sweetie.

Tall John and little john and all of the folk that come by season to season looking for transient jobs but are still consistent as the season because sure as shit they’d pick crop if Wayne’d pay them.

What of all of that? What would his father say?

It’s almost not worth thinking about.

So he tries to love Darry, best he can, and fuck the rest, and if he’s ever pressed then well. Yeah. That’s his sweetie there. It’s also his best pal and his best work hand and his childhood workmate and his…his…

Goddammit does it matter yet?

 

* * *

 

It matters. Colors are coded, apparently. Everyone knows what pink means and what triangles mean and whatever, but regardless of what they are, Wayne should probably clarify that puce doesn’t mean dark grey.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these fics will be Wayne/Darry but will not be focusing on their marriage because I don't want this fic to be super-soft. This, however, was a sort of missing scene from my original fic. I will label each chapter name with the main pairing focus (if there is one) so that those who are only interested in one pairing can skip around. Most of these fics will be less than a 1,000 words a piece, are are simply world building. Some fics will be pure smut, and I will name them as such. They will be added in a linear fashion, because I hate having to skip around chapters in other peoples' fics.


End file.
